The Butterfly
by pixiepaparazzi
Summary: Chihiro dies from old age, returning to a world she can't quite remember, and a boy she couldn't quite forget. A short, light story.


**A/N:** Well, well, well. It's been quite some time. Quite some time indeed. And my first little ficlet in three, almost four, years is this one. Let's hope I'm not _too_ rusty! Anyway, I've been on quite a Studio Ghibli kick. Spirited Away has captured my heart, and I was left with quite a bit of longing for an extended ending to Chihiro's adventure. I started working on one story, but wasn't sure if I liked it, and then this little number came out of nowhere at 3am. There seems to be a mix on whether or not people believe that Chihiro remembers the spirit world or not after she leaves. Apparently there is an interview somewhere that confirms that she does, in fact, forget, but I have yet to actually find this interview. If anyone else knows where to find it, I'd be forever grateful in you letting me know!  
So while the other story I was working on focussed on Chihiro remembering, and her human life, this one is the opposite. She does not remember, and she is no longer human ;D

I hope that you enjoy, and thank you for your time!

* * *

Chihiro blinks. Once, twice, three times.

She is standing on a boat. It is an elegant riverboat; the paddle wheel appears to be made of solid gold. Intricate gold detailing, like the finest of lace, covers the polished cherry wood railings. The gold itself shines like a thousand small suns from the reflection of an unknown, powerful light source. Despite the brightness, the stars have never been clearer in the night sky.

When did she become so short? She'd lost a few inches in her old age, but she is certain she is taller. The railing comes to her neck, and she has to stand on her tiptoes to look directly into the inky, gleaming water. Still on her toes, she places her hands on the railing to better her balance—her hands!

What has happened to her hands? Gone are the wrinkles and sunspots. Gone are the cracked and rough palms of an honest life's work. She turns her hands from front to back, over and over in the glistening light.

She looks down at her body and gasps. Gone is her modest nightgown, in its place a ceremonial kimono hugs her small body. It is white with a light green obi tied around her middle. It reminds her of her favourite childhood shirt—how odd to remember such a thing right now.

The boat comes to a gentle stop, and suddenly there is movement everywhere. She looks around to see hundreds of people, all dressed as formally as she, filling the hallways and making their way to the exit. Some people look frightened, others elated, but they are all bound in silence. The air is too delicate, to speak might ruin this beautifully bizarre dream. Chihiro leaves the railing, mixing in with the crowd, following them to the unknown.

She is almost off the boat when she finally sees the amusement park, glorious and inviting. The most wonderful smells assault her nostrils, and there is laughter in the distance. Nostalgia hits, hard and fast, leaving Chihiro almost breathless. She is sure she's seen these lights before.

She steps off the dock, and her eyes find a flight of stairs. Something has begun to thrum inside of her, she takes a step—

"Chihiro!"

She spins around. The people from the boat move around her with ease as she stands searching the shoreline.

There is movement. A boy. He moves toward her, slowly, cautiously. Nostalgia pulls at her again, almost as if to lift an invisible veil. She doesn't move, doesn't blink, as he approaches her.

"I've been waiting for you," he finally says, coming to stand within reaching distance.

"Who are you?" she asks, her voice high and strange.

She realizes then that she is _young_ again, not just youthful, but young. The boy is taller than her, but only slightly, and she wonders if they are the same age.

His smile is wistful, and instead of answering, he reaches out his hand. She hesitates for a moment, and his eyes become sad. This bothers her for some reason, so she takes a deep breath, and places her hand in his own.

His smile grows a little wider, and his eyes are clear again. Hopeful, almost.

"Come," he says, voice lighter than air. "The others know you're here. I'm not the only one who's been waiting."

She nods dumbly, and follows him. They walk up the stairs.

The amusement park is overwhelming. There is an impossible amount of lights that seem to hang from the very sky. There is stand after stand of food, each plate smelling more tantalizing than the last. Shapes and other strange creatures with faces pass her and the boy, going about their nightly business. Oddly, she is not afraid. Then there is the boy himself, whose hair is shining green in the brightness. She wonders where on earth she could possibly be, when…

She stops. He stops too, never letting go of her hand. He turns to her, his gaze half questioning, half concerned.

"Am… am I dead?" she whispers, looking up into his familiar eyes.

He uses his other hand to touch her cheek.

"Yes," he gently affirms.

She nods, her eyes glancing around.

"And this is the afterlife?"

He smiles then, a small quirk of the lips.

"Not quite," he says. "This is the Spirit World."

This makes sense to her, somehow. She nods again, unperturbed. The boy begins to laugh.

"What's so funny?" she asks, suddenly self-conscious.

"You," he grins, squeezing her hand. "You never fail to surprise me."

She looks at him then, _really_ looks at him. She takes in his dark green hair, his kind eyes, and his blue hakama. She narrows her eyes.

"We've met before," she says, and it isn't a question.

"We have," he agrees pleasantly.

She frowns, scrunching up her nose. She can feel her memory dancing just out of reach. She sighs.

"I'll remember," she half-threatens. "Whether you help me or not, I'll remember."

His smile is whimsical. "I'll be holding you to that."

She snorts and he laughs again.

"Come on," he urges gently. "The others are waiting."

They continue down the streets lined with food and light, and Chihiro can make out a tall building in the distance. Smoke pours from a tall, thin tower.

"A bathhouse," she whispers, and the boy casts her a sideways glance.

"A bathhouse," he agrees, sounding proud. "You haven't entirely forgotten."

The pair walk up another flight of stairs, and Chihiro notices a majestic tower, trimmed in red and gold. She peers up at it curiously, before the night erupts in cheerful cries.

She freezes, wide-eyed. There, on the other side of the bridge before the bathhouse, stands hundreds of creatures, laughing and crying and waving fans. There are too many voices to understand each one, but one thing keeps coming out, loud and clear. One name.

"Sen!" the voices cry, over and over. "Sen!"

She finds herself being tugged forward gently by the boy.

"I told you," he whispers.

"There has to be some mistake," she says. But there again is that nostalgia, that pulling, and they are yelling, they are all yelling…

"Sen," she repeats. "Is my name Sen?"

"No," the boy is wistful again, "your name is Chihiro."

"But I have to keep it a secret," she finds herself saying. She is thinking of flowers and rice balls, and… pigs.

"Not anymore you don't."

He is looking at her imploringly, and the cries are becoming almost unbearable. She looks at the group. A young woman is yelling at the top of her lungs, tears streaming fiercely down her face. There is an old man, a fan in each of his many arms, waving frantically. Black balls bounce around him. There is a black blob with a mask, nodding up and down emphatically. Two old women stand on either sides of the group: one is beaming with her arms open wide, the other, unsmiling with arms crossed, but there is a hint of amusement on her wrinkly face.

"Everyone," she whispers, her feet moving on their own accord. "Everyone!"

The faces of her friends come in with the sharpest of clarity. It is not a flood of memories that hit Chihiro, instead, it is a feeling of completion. She feels like a caterpillar, wrapped so long in a cocoon, finally bursting free as a butterfly. She is not remembering, not in the sense of human memory. She is shedding the last of her humanity, freeing her spirit and gaining all the knowledge that comes with it.

She is part of their world now.

"Everyone!"

She is in Zeniba's arms, laughing and crying. Rin is tousling her hair, laughing through her own tears. The soot sprites climb over her feet, chattering in their unknown language, while Kamaji pats her back. No-Face has his hands extended, hundreds of hair bands sparkling in his palms. Bou, who she did not see before, is dancing on his toes behind Yubaba, waiting for his turn at the reunion. Yubaba herself is scoffing at the sentimental show, but she has not yet yelled at anyone to get back to work.

But there is one person who has not joined in the welcoming party. She turns around, wiping at her eyes, to find him.

He is still standing away from the group, a few feet in front of the bridge. His hand is upturned, resting awkwardly against his thigh, and she realizes, with some guilt, that she must've ripped out of his grasp. He is staring at her, almost shyly; he knows he is not unknown to her anymore.

There is a light push on her back.

"Go on," Zeniba says kindly.

"Put him out of his misery," chimes in Rin.

The soot sprites clear from her feet. She begins a slow walk back toward him.

The cheering dies down. Breathing becomes scarce. All eyes are on the girl and boy who started it all.

She approaches him, feeling her own shyness creep up on her. His eyes are unreadable, glittering jade.

"Haku," she whispers. His shoulders tense. "Kohaku," she amends, blushing.

Suddenly, she is in his arms, crushed to his chest. Tears prick at her eyes once more.

"I missed you," he confesses quietly, stroking her hair. Chihiro buries her face in his chest, her arms wrapping around his torso.

"You said we'd meet again some day," she says, and is instantly embarrassed by the hoarse whine of her voice.

"I knew we would," he murmurs. "When a human dies, their spirit can go anywhere. But some humans, those who have found the spirit world by other means, will always return to the place they came to. The spirit remembers, so when it's freed from its shell, it returns."

Chihiro looks up at Haku, her watery eyes wide. "So you always knew I'd come back when I died? Is that why you never came to find me?"

His smile is bittersweet. "If I came to find you when you were still human, if I made you remember… It would've been too hard on you, Chihiro. I could've never caused you that pain. So I waited."

She leans into his embrace again, nodding against his chest.

"How did you know when I was going to die?"

He laughs then, the sound reverberating around her.

"I didn't know," he says, holding her tighter. "I've been going to the river every day to see if you would get off the boat."

Chihiro's head shot up. She stares into his eyes in astonishment.

"You've been waiting every day? For me?" she squeaks. "I lived for eighty-nine years!"

He pulls her back to his chest.

"And I would wait for eighty-nine more," he whispers into her hair.

Cheers erupt again from behind the pair, and while Chihiro feels herself flush, a smile blooms across her face. Finally pulling away from Haku, she takes his hand once more before turning back to her friends. Together, they cross the bridge.


End file.
